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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23967178">Dear Aster Flores,</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/GUMMYbags/pseuds/GUMMYbags'>GUMMYbags</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Half of It (2020)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Aster Flores for white boy of the month, College, F/F, Love Letters, Really just fluff, more gay yearning</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 16:47:33</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,461</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23967178</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/GUMMYbags/pseuds/GUMMYbags</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Ellie said, "See you in a few years." But there's no way she's willing to wait that long to hear from her. So she sends a letter.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ellie Chu &amp; Paul Munsky, Ellie Chu/Aster Flores</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>198</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. But I'm Selfish</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hey this is my first time on this site so sorry if I mess up the format. I wasn't going to write this because I'm not nearly as into art and reading as Ellie and Aster and I'm too lazy to research it, but I watched the movie a second time and had to. So please don't be mad when the characters don't talk as much about "repressed British literature" I'm literally a STEM major.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Dear Aster Flores,</p><p>	I spent four years attaching someone else’s name to my words. I could come up with fifteen different takes on the same Greek tragedy in one night. I wrote approximately three hundred essays on the philosophy of love. My mind is a revolving door of Plato, and Aristotle, and Socrates quotes. I’d like to use one now. I wish that I could pull out a quote that perfectly encompasses what I’m feeling right now. If there was such a thing maybe it wouldn’t have taken me so long to write this letter. I’ve put a lot of words to paper in my life, nut knowing that when I finish this one it will be my name I sign terrifies me. </p><p>	More than anything I want the words written on this paper to sound like me. I can’t take back what Paul and I did. I can’t erase the fact that I lied to you for so long. I like to imagine that I’d be brave enough to say yes if someone afforded me the chance to unwrite those letters. But I’m selfish. Without the letters I never would have gotten to know who you are. I wouldn’t know how beautiful your mind is or how powerful your words can be. I wouldn’t change that for anything. And I hate myself for even saying that, but if there’s one thing I want to be in this letter it’s honest.</p><p>	I want to keep writing you. I want to tell you about Grinnell and my feelings and every time I read a new book or watch a new movie. I want to put it all on paper and send it you. And I want to hear about you. I want to hear about art school and your new friends and every time you fall in love with something new I want to hear about it. </p><p>	I can’t force you to write back. And if you don’t want to hear from me I will stop. I like how we left things in Squahamish, but I don’t want that to be the last chapter in our story. </p><p> </p><p>With Love,<br/>
Ellie Chu</p><p> </p><p>	Aster read the letter 8 times. She studied each word with caution. As if she might look away for a moment and they’d all decide to flee the page leaving her with only the memory of Ellie’s words. </p><p>	It had been over three months since she’d last seen her. She was since accepted to art school in Seattle. Not quite the leap of faith Ellie had taken moving half way across the country, but still after two months in a new city she'd begun to feel pretty far removed from everything that had happened between them. </p><p>	She thought about Ellie everyday. It was hard not too. She saw her in everything. Every time she read a book or finished a project she found herself longing to share it with the person she’d spent her senior year writing letters to.</p><p>	The letter had been sent a month ago. Aster had only learned how to work the combinations on her dorm’s mailboxes today in anticipation of a check. She’d sold her first piece of art a week ago. The price was negligible compared to the time she’d spent on it and it was by no means her best work. But the pride she felt when she saw the message was incomparable. </p><p>	Now the money lay forgotten on her bed as she tried to make sense of Ellie’s letter. It hadn’t come accompanied by a text or a call or even a ghost message. It was the only attempt either of them had made to reach out to the other since they’d last spoken. She wasn’t sure how Ellie got her address or even knew she’d been accepted to school.</p><p>	The romance of it made her heart flutter. The thought of sending love letters to someone  almost two thousand miles away felt straight out of a movie. </p><p>	She still didn’t know what her feelings for Ellie were. In a place like Squahamish it’s hard to feel different. There’s so little in that town it’s impossible not to do the same thing as everyone around you. They all ate at the same handful of restaurants, shopped at the same grocery store, saw the same dentist, and on Sundays they all went to the same Church. Everyone in Squahamish felt like a slight variation of the same person. </p><p>	Ellie Chu was the first person to make Aster feel like more than that, but she’d done it by lying to her. Realizing that the person she spent months basically baring her soul too wasn’t who she’d thought they were had hurt. She knew Ellie’s intentions were never malicious. She knew that her and Paul had truly cared about her. That didn’t mean what they did hadn’t stung. </p><p>	Her feelings regarding Ellie Chu were more complicated than she was probably willing to acknowledge. So perhaps, she realized as she tore a page from her notebook, that makes her the selfish one.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Things I Probably Shouldn't Put on Paper</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Iowa ended up being the exact change of pace Ellie had needed. The school was small and it was in a relatively rural area, but it was full of kids with big plans. A significant change from the people in Squahamish. </p><p>	In Squahamish she’d always felt different. Like she had to work twice as hard as everyone else just to blend in. At Grinnell for the first time in her entire life she found herself surrounded by people that understood her. </p><p>	Plus she found that she actually really enjoyed the rural midwest. Or at least her small pocket of it. The seasons changed dramatically and the rain fell in normal intervals. She’d seen more sunshine in her first two months here than she had in some years back in Washington. On the train ride there she found herself watching the infinite fields that rolled out to hug the horizon. Most people would consider the never ending country side to be boring, but Ellie say it as a blank canvas. Iowa could be anything she wanted it to be. All she had to focus on was perfecting two strokes. </p><p>	Ellie’s dorm was cramped and lacked air conditioning. She spent the first month of her time looking for any excuse to not be in there. Her first friend was a girl named Annie from down the hall. They’d to find the best coffee shop near campus when the August afternoons began feel suffocatingly hot. She was from Chicago and self identified as an ice coffee enthusiast. She blanched at espresso if it was too sour and didn’t trust a cafe if didn’t offer oat milk. They ate dinner together in the dining hall and joined a student run book club at the library. </p><p>	It wasn’t long before their dinner table began to grow and soon Ellie found herself eating at a full table. Her new friends were smart and ambitious, most of them stemming from Chicago suburbs or small Iowa towns. They begged her to talk about growing up on the west coast and warned her about midwestern winters. They crowed into dorm rooms when someone’s roommate left for the night and smuggled bottles of alcohol in their backpacks to open with the RA went to sleep. For the first time in her entire life Ellie felt like she belonged somewhere. </p><p>	On week days she woke up early to call her dad and talk with him while he worked. At first she was nervous about how he would do on his own, but even over the phone Ellie could hear that he was doing better. He made it to the tracks on time and ate dinners with Paul.</p><p>	And Paul seemed good too. He came over any nights he could to cook new experimental dishes for Ellie’s dad. He still worked at his parents store, but was using his paychecks to take culinary classes at a school a few towns over. They face timed almost every day until they couldn’t think of anything to say to each other. He was saving up to come visit in a few weeks when Ellie had the dorm to herself. </p><p>	Paul ended every phone call with a smug smile and some silly quip about how happy seeing her happy made him. And even though it was always said as a joke Ellie knew he was genuine. Paul was the most empathetic person she’d ever met. </p><p>	Her classes ended at noon on Thursdays, and she’d planed to spend most of her afternoon working on an essay for her Rhet class. After years of practice she found a strange comfort in writing papers that began with her own name at the top and was actually looking forward to stringing some sentences together about a poem they’d been assigned last week.<br/>
She did have one post class ritual she needed to attend to first. Everyday without fail for the past month she checked the old mail boxes on the ground floor of her building. And everyday without fail her’s had been empty. She didn’t know what she was expecting at this point. The person that worked at the front desk probably thought she was crazy, but she couldn’t bring herself to not look. </p><p>	A part of her almost wished she’d never sent that letter. At least if she had called or sent a text it would be easy for Aster to respond. Instead she felt like an idiot for expecting her to go through the trouble of writing and addressing a letter when about a hundred easier modern forms of communication existed. </p><p>	There had been no response so far. No call, no text, not even a stupid ghost message to SmithCorona. Part of her doubted that the letter even made it to Aster. But after taking the initiative and reaching out in the first place Ellie found herself far too afraid to try again. So instead she hung her head and checked her perpetually empty mail box. </p><p>	Peeling off her backpack she dug through for the small golden key. The mailboxes were rusted and required a key half the residents didn’t even bother picking up. Ellie kept hers on hand at all times. Just in case. The lock twisted with its usual restraint and the small metal door groaned open. Ellie had already began the habitual motion of closing it when she noticed the small white envelope shoved in the back. </p><p>	She had to swallowed her shock as it crawled up her throat. She moved a shaky hand towards the envelope slowly like it might self destruct if she touched it. The gears in her head spun at a million miles per hour trying to come up with any possible thing that could be in that envelope that wasn’t a letter from Aster Flores. She was certain Paul had messed up and sent her a birthday card five months early. Until she read the return address.</p><p>	She slammed the little door closed so fast that the entire wall of mail boxes rattled. Ripping her key out of the hole she ran towards the stairs like a lion might run after it’s dinner. Bounding with purpose in a way she never had before. She skipped the elevator deciding she was too excited to stand still in it instead opting to take the five flights of stairs two steps at a time.</p><p>	 Her hands shook as she fumbled to turn her key in her dorm's lock. She thanked every divine being she could think of that her roommate had class until four. Taking a seat at her desk she did something she’d never done before. She squealed. The noise resembled a middle school girl whose crush just asked her to the dance. Surprised at her own overwhelming excitement she took a moment to compose herself. She was Ellie Chu. She didn’t squeal. Not even over a letter from a girl she’d spent the previous year of her life pining over. </p><p>	She took five even calming breaths before ripping open the envelope. </p><p>Dear Ellie Chu,</p><p>	The last names feel a little formal don’t they. Anyway more to the point I saw your letter. I mean obviously that’s why I’m writing this one. I thought about just calling. Then texting because I was too scared to call. Then just sending a ghost message when texting felt like too much. Then an email when I considered how much I wanted to say. But I settled on a letter. Because that just felt right for us you know?</p><p>	I guess I’ve written to you before. Even when they started with Paul’s name those letters were to you. Or in response to you I guess. I’m really glad you sent the letter by the way. I’ve been wanting to talk to you. I wanted to know that you were happy and that Grinnell was the escape you’d been looking for. If anyone deserves to find happiness outside of Squahamish it’s you Ellie.</p><p>	I guess I’m not sure where I was expecting after we last saw each other. I just remember thinking there was so much I needed to say to you. Things I honestly never thought I’d have the chance to tell you. Things I probably shouldn’t put on paper. Not yet at least. </p><p>	I do like art school and I’ve already learned so much since I’ve been here. It’s hard. And terrifying art is something that’s always been so personal to me, and now I feel like I’m putting everything out there. But I also feel like I understand it all so much more. All my class mates are so talented and more experienced than I am. Even when I feel like I’m walking through tar trying to keep up with them I still feel like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be. I think that’s something we were both really searching for last year.</p><p>	I want to keep writing too. Getting those letters from Paul was the only time I’ve ever felt like someone understood me. And if that someone is you I don’t want to loose that. Looking back at the time I can’t help but wonder if I knew. Is it weird that I don’t even know. The signs were there. I knew something wasn’t right, and I guess I just didn’t know what to think. </p><p>	When I think about where I am right now I still feel scared. When I was home everything felt so safe and normal. Now I’m going to a new school, making new art, and meeting new people. Everything is so different and terrifying. I just don’t want to loose any of it. And I don’t want to loose you either. </p><p> </p><p>Yours,<br/>
Aster Flores</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I promise the characters will actually do stuff in chapter 2.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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